Week 26

Hello!
So I'm eating onion jam on tiger bread and freezing my tits off (the perils of plaster board walls and a student budget) and figured that it might be an idea to find some super tips on how to avoid the cold. While the only sound and not totally obvious advice was to
1. wear many thin layers rather than one thick one as hot air gets trapped between the layers and provides thermal insulation
2. don't wear anything too tight as it'll stop your circulation and your extremities will get cold (this means no tights under skinny jeans unfortunately
3. on a similar note try not to wear tight belts or even rings or watches which are a bit tight for the same reason

I did find this amazing article on how to avoid frostbite. The whole thing is written in the first person and just to give you a taster of the kind of people out there on the internet here's an extract:
"Most people are not so adventurous as to reach such extreme conditions as the above. However, it may be easier to remain in the road if the car breaks down and we can not return home. If we have fuel, we will leave the engine running with the heater on. If it's too cold, we can protect the windows with seat covers, newspaper, carpet or what we could have at hand.
Inside the car we should always carry a blanket. It will help us to retain heat. It is also convenient to wear a tight box protected from moisture with some matches and a piece of flintstone in it. We may never need to use it, but with matches or the flintstone, we can light a fire in a sheltered place that can protect us from cold.
If we do not have any matches we have the opportunity to make a fire using petrol and the car battery. To do this, we will wet a gauze with gasoline and we will produce sparks bringing together the two terminals of the battery." -botanical online

So now you know. If Boris cocks up the public transport system next time it snows we can always just rip off the car seat covers and set fire to the engine. Reassured?



Made this nifty skirt with my dinky JL Mini sewing machine. Stupidly happy with myself although most of the credit needs to go to Mrs Debra Watson. Nice legs Fran Zoutewelle, proud to say I slept in your bed for over two weeks. You bloody minx.

This week we love...



It's fair to say that the average university student lives up to their stereotype of the satchel sporting know it all who drinks cheap beer and rolls their own cigarettes while talking shit about mass media, but once in a while you meet someone who doesn't entirely fit the bill. Elisabeth Gheorghe is one of those. Romanian, pint-sized and a published writer at 12, she discusses marble toilets, life philosophies and how having your dad tracked by the Stasi is all part of an eastern european family history. A skype interview reported.

EW: So where are you from Elizabeth Gheorghe?
EG: I'm Romanian but I was born in Sweden. I lived there until I was five, then moved to the States, then back to Sweden again at age 8 and resided there until I graduated from high school. My parents are both Romanian but they had to leave before the revolution in 1989. My dad's an engineer and my mum's an accountant but my dad was involved in counter-revolutionary activities since the age of 13/14 (it all started with growing his hair long and listening to deep purple) which became increasingly serious over the years so it just wasn't safe. Ironically my mother's side had connections with the party (medics and surgeons had to be in the party, unlike engineers, physicists and mathematicians) and her neighbours were actually agents from the security police.

EW: Crazy.
EG: Yeah, my dad's side of the family has a bit of a rebellious tradition which keeps things interesting. Greatgrandpa Gheorghe was arrested by the commies int eh 50s for his objection to the collectivisation of the land (both sides of my family had vast country estates and stuff). He'd also fought in the Balkan Wars which is a bit cool but he ended up dying in prison according to records although he probably ended up in some labour camp. His son (my grandad) was serving time in a labour camp in Crimea at the time, THE IRONY!

EW: Your poor granny. So the commies took all your land, what happened next?
EG: Well they shipped people into the cities for the urbanisation project. Engineers, mathematicians, physicists and medics were needed in the factories and to generally run society so that was that.

EW: And how did your parents meet?
EG: Well my dad and my mum's uncle did some gigs together (amateur musicians during the summer, good money at the time) and they met through him. He was at uni and she was still in high school so he ended up going to work in East Germany while she was studying in Bucharest but then he started getting persecuted by the Stasi so they moved to Sweden.

EW: So you've ended up living all over the world, is there anywhere you feel particularly attached to?
EG: Not really, I've spent varying amounts of time in each place and while my parents are very rooted to Romania I don't really identify with a specific country.They've all got small differences which makes them fascinating.

EW: Fair enough, but if you had to summarise your thoughts on each country with an object what would they be?
EG: America would be a box of Lucky Charms (I love them but they're so hard to find in Europe), Sweden is a can of Kopparberg's strawberry-lime cider, Romania's an accordion and London's an oversized vintage jumper.

EW: What do you want to do in life?
EG: WHat I would like to do in life huh? Well, my greatest aspiration is to become a poet or a writer of some sort. I love writing poetry and short stories, been published twice before so maybe there's a shot at getting published again, who knows? Other than that my career would be somewhere in academia. Teaching at uni level seems pretty fun.

EW: I can see you doing that. So where have you been published before?
EG: I was 12 when I was first published. I randomly sent in a short story on why seas where salty (the theme was myths and legends and I wrote about a princess that'd done something stupid, been locked in a tower and cried like a motherfucker until the world was swallowed by her tears). It was an under 16s competition and I was the only writer published under 15 which was pretty cool. That must have been in 2002/2003. The second time was when I was 16. I was a regular contributor of poems (under a pen name) to Sweden's equivalent of the Guardian, Sydsvenskan. They once held a competition with the Swedish literature elite as the panel judges and I had a number of my poems published.

EW: What would you say is your life philosophy?
EG: Setting the ship on fire and dancing on the bannister? I don't really know, chilling and enjoying even the smallest things.

EW: Final question for the busy lady, what would be your ideal Sunday?
EG: No coursework and time for sandwiches and chilling, perhaps a double scotch and a few smokes, a couple of lines being punched out on the typewriter.

If you want to have a squiz at Lizbeth's poetry you can check out her blog here.

The Life Aquatic Studio Sessions- Seu Jorge

With cover versions usually associated with crap band nights in provincial pubs you reserve the right to be weary of an album of David Bowie covers performed in Portuguese. The fact that five of these songs feature on the soundtrack of Wes Anderson's 'The Life Aquatic' and that Brazilian singer Seu Jorge is a well respected musician in his own right may ease your mind but just in case your not totally convinced enjoy a little taster here.
Favourites have to be 'Starman' (O Astronaut a De Marmare) and 'Changes'. Lush.

A Prophet- Jacques Audiard










It's been a week of conspiracies what with The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, Tell No One and the latest Harry Potter (is Snape a goody, is he a baddy, really wish I hadn't read the books and was actually intrigued) but while they've all culminated to make me feel extremely naive, the most noteworthy has to be Jacques Audiard's The Prophet. Set in modern day France the film follows the evolution of 19 year old Malik from illiterate inmate to mafia king-pin over the course of his six years in jail. Most obviously a criticism of the criminal justice system it also says a lot about the situation of ethnic minorities in the country that established the concept of human rights and the prejudices these groups face. Audiard said that he aimed to "create icons, images for people who don't have images in movies" but emphasised that the film "has nothing to do with his vision of society" so don't expect a 'Shawshank Redemption' style ending.














Press Photographer's 2010- Belvedere Road, Southbank, City of London, Greater London SE1 8XT

If, like myself, you're often embarrassed by your total lack of awareness in regards to current affairs, this is the perfect opportunity for you to get a sweeping overview of events for 2010. The Press Photographer's is an annual competition designed for press photographers by press photographers and features the best shots from this years headlines. Often depressing and always visually stunning, the shots are divided into categories such as portraits, royalty and entertainment, sports action singles and live news to give you the best of all worlds, illustrating that while the world may be going to shit, there's still a lot of beauty around us. Favourite entry has to be the photos of Congo's Societe des Ambiances et des Personnes Elegantes. Google it asap.

Also...



You will never understand how much I laughed at this. Watch the original interview for extra humour and perhaps learn the lyrics/moves. Probably the catchiest song in the world.